Writings, Observations, Poetry, Stories

Coffee is the Best Medicine October 23, 2005

Last episode: Brenda, jealous of the Health Inspector Supervisor flirting with her love, Alfred, came to my place and I fitted her out with a sexy make-over to go back and win her man.

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Brenda and I arrived at the coffee shop to find the Supervisor whispering what were probably especially sweet nothings in Alfred's ear while he sipped on a large mug of the shop's primo Colombian blend. His face wore a grin of satisfaction so huge it could only come from two methods of simultaneous happiness attacking him at the same time merging in sweet harmony. Coffee and sweet nothings can do that to a man. Spying this, Brenda's expression of mortification tore at my heart. She truly did love him; it was obvious.

"How can I get his attention with all that going on?" she asked.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," I responded. Gazing around looking for inspiration, I took note of Rose doling out coffee from one of her big glass pots. "I've got it!" I said. "You've just become Alfred's personal waitress!"

Rose who was very proud of her waitressing skills, agreed to Brenda, an amateur, working her counter — but only barely. She didn't cotton to the idea of someone else dishing out java in her place, but with some arm-twisting and pleas to save Brenda's romance, she agreed. We put a saucy little white apron on Brenda and touched up her make-up. Standing back, I surveyed her. Yes, she was ready.

"Okay, you go girl!" I said.

"I will!" she replied triumphantly.

I took a seat at the counter to watch. Brenda slithered up with all the sultry steamy air she could muster, an equally simmering pot of the best java clutched in her right hand.

"Refill on your coffee, honey?" she asked.

Alfred looked up and his face transformed with an expression that can only be described as a combination of curiosity, hungry, and the odd way a person appears trying to cipher long division in his head. I could tell she looked familiar to him, but he had no clue how to place her. My make-over of Brenda was that good. Her own mother would not know her; but if she did, she'd be embarrassed by her young one's lack of modesty.

Pouring his coffee in a long lingering flow while leaning close, she almost touched poor Alfred, making lots of heat between them. "There you go, sweetie!" she mouthed in a murmur from deep in her throat. Her eyes remained riveted to his in a hypnotic connection until she finally turned and walked away. Alfred's eyes followed her with longing.

The Supervisor watched all of this with dismay. She leaned closer to Alfred and blew in his ear, but he pushed her aside as he latched his gaze on Brenda.

"I don't think I like where this is going," Rose said from the sidelines. "If he rejects the Supervisor, she'll get back to doing her job and then for sure she'll issue me a health violation…maybe even shut my coffee shop down."

I looked at Rose in dismay. She was right. In panic, I gazed at the Super, then at Brenda, swinging next around to Alfred. Gee, I'd made a mess of things.

There is something to be said about having a filthy mind. It didn't take long for true inspiration to hit me with a wallop. I called Brenda over and whispered in her ear, taking delight in how her face lit up as I spoke. Giving her a healthy thumbs up, I sent her back in.

The Super was back at it, luring Alfred into her grasp, having unbuttoned her blouse and starting a lap dance. I nodded to Brenda, and with an oomph, she jumped up on the counter in front of Alfred. Looking at me first for reassurance, she danced — swaying slowly back and forth, then faster. Stiletto heels and vibrating hips were all Alfred could see, but it was enough. He couldn't take his eyes off her. With a wink, she jumped down and took a seat next to him, making Alfred the happy middle of a doll sandwich. Brenda had just become part of a new, interesting threesome. Each lady had half of Alfred, and everyone was happy!

And I was a happy woman, reveling in my success at making over people to be attractive, wanted, and sensual. I never would have thought I could be successful at such a thing, I mean I'm sort of school-marmish looking myself. But hey, obviously I'm an artist at heart!

Loud voices broke into my egotistical thoughts as I looked over to see Butch, Rose's favorite big guy, bawling like a baby at the other end of the counter. Now, what would make such a manly man cry like that? I grabbed my coffee and headed over to see…

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I'll be taking the month of November off to participate in National Novel Writing Month. This story will resume in the beginning of December.